


Draco Dormiens

by saltyplaydough



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, M/M, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 16:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19958659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyplaydough/pseuds/saltyplaydough
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament is taking place at Hogwarts and it's ruining Aaron's life to be honest.





	Draco Dormiens

“Duro.”

The ink pot balancing on top of the trunk trembles a little, same as it’s done the last six times. Considering the spell is meant to turn the target object into stone, he doesn’t think he’s making much progress. 

He tries again. Gets another tremble, with a little bit of green smoke this time. Is that better or worse?

“See, you’re supposed to lead with your elb–”

One hard glare is all it takes to shut Matty up. He turns back to the ink pot again, tries not to think about how much more fun spellwork practice used to be when it involved empty classrooms, wandering hands and not a lot of spellwork at all. 

It’s been two days since Aaron slipped the anonymous tip about the dragons into Robert’s bag, adding a pointed comment about ‘ _flying_ out of trouble’. Aaron winces just thinking about the clumsy wording. Though he supposes Robert got the hint, given how often he’s seen him out on the grounds since.

They’d talked about this, you know. They’d agreed it was stupid. That it wasn’t worth the risk, not when they had this. But he’d gone behind his back and put his name in the Goblet anyway. _Typical_ Robert. Always had to be the big man, always the hero. The Hogwarts Champion. 

Of course he’d go for a title like that. What was he thinking? What was _Aaron_ thinking? How stupid was he to think Robert Sugden would care how anyone else felt.

This time, the ink pot topples over to its side, nearly rolling off the edge of the trunk. Aaron sighs, walking over to set it upright again. McGonagall was going to have his skin if he didn’t manage to at least turn it grey by morning. It’s only then he sees the photograph lying below the desk. He thought he’d lost it, but it must’ve fallen through the gap between the wall and the desk. 

It’s of them, taken during their last visit to Hogsmeade. Robert pressing rough, laughing kisses into his cheek and Aaron trying to get away from the stubble he’d been trying to grow for weeks. Photo Aaron looks back at Real Aaron, content, _happy_ and smug about it. Like he was sure nothing would change this. Like it was Robert and Aaron against the world. Stupid. He pockets the photo before Matty sees it, re-positions the ink, and walks back to where he’d been standing for the past 20 minutes. 

“Do you have to use my trunk though?”

“Shut up.”

He raises his wand again.

The thing is, it’s been two days, and Robert’s gotten nowhere with his flying. He’s still listing over too much to one side, still too shaky in his take-off, still too _slow_. And he can’t afford to be slow, can he? Not with a 40 foot, fire-breathing dragon after him. 

They’re only two days away from the first task and Robert might not–

Something, anything could happen and he–

The pot explodes with a dramatic bang, shards of glass everywhere and dark ink pooling on top of Matty’s trunk, dripping down its sides. 

“Mate! That was new, that! Aw, mum’s gonna kill me.”

Aaron falls, weak, onto the side of the bed. His wand feels too hot, but he grips it tight in his fingers as he forces himself to breathe through the lightheadedness. He watches Matty sop up the mess he’s caused, but all he can do is breathe. What he definitely _isn’t_ gonna do, is cry.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. Pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes as a deterrent. “ _Fuck_.” 

No. If anything happens to Robert, he’ll kill him _himself_. He isn’t done being angry, so Robert doesn’t get to _die_ and make him feel bad. If Robert thinks he can make him cry at his funeral, when all he wants to do is hate him still, he’s got another thing coming. The daft git isn’t dying on his watch. Especially not when they’re like _this_ ; not talking or laughing or just… not together. 

He grabs the broomstick leaning against the wall and heads to the grounds.

:::

The sun has gone down, and the evening is turning out to be frigid cold. Aaron has no doubt Robert is still out in the pitch though, just like he’d been the past two nights. Where does the idiot think catching a cold _and_ being a shit flier will get him? Aaron stomps on through the damp field, sending flecks of mud everywhere. What’s he going to say to him? They haven’t spoken once since their fight after the Goblet spit out Robert’s name as a fourth champion and stopped Aaron’s heart in the process. Since then he’s managed to ignore the pleading looks sent his way in the Great Hall, and then the not so pleading, angrier ones as Aaron continued to evade all of Robert’s attempts to talk to him. 

Late at night, when he lays in bed and feels himself soften just a little, safe in the privacy of the dark room and snoring dorm mates, he can accept that he misses him, worries what this is doing to him. Robert’s unprecedented appointment had led to alarm, confusion, and bitterness from all three schools involved. The Hufflepuffs, especially, aren’t happy with Robert trying to steal their own Ellis Chapman’s spotlight, seemingly refusing to be mollified by Hogwarts now having twice of a chance at winning the Cup. And he knows Chrissie White has started peddling garish, multi-coloured “Sugden Stinks” badges between lessons, enchanted to change dizzyingly from yellow to purple to red and then back again. To be fair, he doubts the badges are about the Tournament at all. Chrissie doesn’t need any more of a reason to hate Robert than she already does. 

Aaron finally gets past the stands, half covered in mud just from the walk and makes a mental note to keep an eye out for Mrs Norris—grass that she is—when he gets back to the castle. 

And then he sees them.

He doesn’t quite understand what exactly it is he’s seeing, until he understands all too well. Robert and Rebecca White, with their faces pulled close together. No, not just close together, they’re kissing. He’s kissing her. 

Aaron watches them for a beat too long maybe, like he’s forgotten he can look away. It takes a blink of a raindrop landing on his eyelashes to shatter this weird trance he’s in, and he turns back towards the castle without a second glance. He loses himself in the thundering rain, the angry squelch of the Earth under his boots, the jagged edges of his breathing. How is his breathing louder than the rain?

It’s a good thing they’d been so preoccupied. He doesn’t want to think about Robert’s reaction to Aaron—in his muddy clothes and Debbie’s old broomstick over his shoulder—coming to find Robert but catching him kissing _Rebecca White_ instead.

Would he have pitied him?

Maybe Robert got tired of waiting on him to come round. He’s sure Rebecca finds the whole Hogwarts champion thing impressive instead of heart-stoppingly terrifying. Aaron laughs at the absurdity of it all, ignoring how wrong it sounds coming out of him. Robert looked like he knew what he was doing back there, anyway. He definitely doesn’t need Aaron’s help.

:::

He doesn’t know why he’s even decided to come, but here he is, surrounded by screaming students. The excited thrill in the air, the laughter, the sticky smell of Honeydukes sweets, all of it just makes Aaron want to be sick all over the two Slytherins in front of him. The trumpets eventually go off, signalling the start of the task, and the Durmstrang champion walks out from a nearby tent to meet her dragon.

:::

And then, after what feels like too little time, it’s Robert’s turn. Aaron watches him walk into the enclosure that’s been specially built for the task. 

He’s never thought of Robert as small before, but he looks comically so now, next to the Common Welsh Green on the other side of the enclosure. Aaron squeezes his fists tight in the pockets of his robe, nails digging into the meat of his palm. What’s he planning? Where’s his broom? Robert keeps moving closer to the dragon.

“ _Robert._ ” It slips out of him in a desperate little whisper. What is he _doing_? He wants to look away, but finds that he can’t. If this is it, then he feels like he owes it to Robert to at least be present.

Robert’s got about 30 meters between the dragon and himself when he stops, raises his wand up and points directly at the base of her neck.

:::

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

His throat is sore, though he doesn’t remember making a sound. And he knows his hair’s standing on end from all the times he’s run tense fingers through it and pulled. But the first task is over now. Robert’s got the egg and it’s over now. He’s probably got a few scratches from a fall and his hair on his left side’s been singed to hell, but he’s actually gone and stolen an egg from under a dragon’s snout. _And not died_. 

He’s brilliant. He’s bloody _brilliant_.

He’d charmed her into a bewitched sleep and snuck up under her tail, creeping over to the golden egg sat in the midst of it’s less striking siblings. He mustn’t have been completely successful with the spell though, because a burst of fire from a wayward snore had thrown him a few meters to his right, and caught him on the ends of his robes. (Aaron doesn’t want to dwell on the minute that passed with Robert not getting up.) 

But he’d got to it in the end. And he’s safe for now.

Aaron could feel himself being pushed around by the over-excited crowd, and he’s sure his ears will still be ringing tonight from all the screaming that’s going on way too close for comfort. But he can’t stop staring at Robert’s small, faraway frame. Looking him over, again and again, like he has any chance of identifying injuries from all the way over here. 

He looks up at his face again and catches Robert looking back. Stunned. He probably is. He’s just beaten an adult dragon and escaped with his life intact. Of _course_ he is. 

Aaron feels left over apprehension and rising relief bubble up inside of him. It comes out all at once, in a honking laugh that he’s glad Robert’s too far away to actually hear, and suddenly he’s shaking with it. They haven’t yet looked away from each other, so he sees the way his shoulders sag. The way his face lights up, _finally_. 

The screaming continues around him, and he’s distantly aware of the elbow uncomfortably lodged into his side, but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t seen Robert this relaxed since before their fight, and Aaron misses him. He wants to hold him, and make sure he’s alright, and run away with him because yeah, he’s survived this task, but there are two more. 

He sees him being ushered into the first-aid tent and starts pushing his way out of the stands, elbowing the more stubborn students out of his way and ignoring their pained cries. He has to see Robert. Why hasn’t he gone to him yet? What’s he been waiting for, when he could lose him to this stupid game?

“Aaron!” 

He keeps going until he feels a hand close around his arm. He looks, up ready to tell whoever it is to do one, but stops when he sees long blonde hair wrapped in a scarf and an exceedingly cheery smile. 

Rebecca White. Right.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! You can find me on tumblr at [spamela-hamderson](https://spamela-hamderson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
